Arlene's Advice
by anon004
Summary: What should happen after last night's episode. Bombshells.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The idea for this fic came out of the horrible Bombshells episode and a spoiler that said Candace Bergen was going to be returning for an episode later this season.

The way I've written this is sure to alienate both the readers who like my Huddy fics and the readers who like my House O/C fic. Sorry to everyone, but, I just had to get this out of my system.

* * *

Cuddy hadn't been back to work since her surgery. She was trying to recuperate and also trying to come to terms with what had happened to her relationship with House. She still loved him and she always would. It just wasn't going to work out between them. House simply couldn't be in a relationship.

She had spent a lot of the previous week crying over her loss. Wilson had tried to contact her once or twice, but Cuddy had Marina run interference.

It was Saturday morning.

"Thanks so much for taking her this weekend, Luce," Cuddy told her sister as she took Rachel toward the door. "I'm doing some work from home, and it's okay during the week when Marina's here, but . . . "

"Running after a preschooler when you're not one hundred per cent is exhausting," Lucinda added. "I remember. No problem."

"I'll see you around six tomorrow night, then?"

"Yeah. Listen, Lisa, I have to tell you something. Mom stopped by last night and I told her about your surgery."

"Oh, Luce!"

"I know, but I had no choice. She wanted to get together with us this weekend, and she would have wondered why I was watching Rachel. And she was bound to find out sooner or later"

"It's okay. "

"And, well, I wound up telling her about you and House."

"What?"

"I couldn't help it, Lise. She asked how he was handling it, and it just hit a nerve. I told her all about how he screwed this up, and how he had basically screwed everything up since you were together."

"How did she take it?"

"Well, she looker angrier and angrier the more things I told her. I honestly think she'll be supportive of your decision this time, Lise."

"Well, I hope so . . . "

"You should find out soon enough."

"What?"

"She said she'd be coming to your house later today to talk to you."

"Oh, great."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"If you say so."

Cuddy kissed Rachel good-bye and waved from the front window as Lucinda's car pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street.

Cuddy wasn't looking forward to a visit from her mother, but there wasn't much she could do about it at this point. She pulled out some paperwork to distract herself.

The doorbell rang at eleven o'clock. Cuddy put her paperwork back in the folder and put in on the desk in the living room on her way towards the front door.

She looked out and there, of course, was Arlene. She didn't look particularly happy, but, then, Cuddy's mother never looked particularly happy. Cuddy opened the door.

"Hi, Mom," Cuddy said, trying to sound like she wasn't dreading the whole encounter.

"Hello, Lisa," Arlene said as she stepped through the door. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, Mom," Cuddy responded. "I still get tired easily, though."

"Well, it was quite the scare, I'm sure."

"I don't what Lucinda told you, but it looked like kidney cancer that had metastasized. I thought I was going to die."

"And yet, you didn't think to call me."

_Here it comes_, Cuddy thought. _I'm going to get it now_.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I just didn't want to worry you."

"Oh, please. You've been lying to me since you were twelve years old. This is just more of the same."

"Mom . . . "

"It doesn't matter, Lisa. As long as you're alright, that's what matters."

"Thanks, Mom."

There was a pause in the conversation. Cuddy was relieved, but apprehensive, as her mother had made no move to leave.

"Now that we have that out of the way, let's get down to why I'm here."

"You mean that wasn't it?"

"Well, no, Lisa. Since I wasn't around during the crisis, I can't really say much about it now."

"True. So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Greg."

"Mom. This is very painful. I don't know if I can."

"Oh, don't play the sympathy card with me. You have to face some hard realities here. You're forty-five years old, and you just broke up with one of the few men on the planet who could probably tolerate you. And didn't you tell me when you broke up with that loser, what was his name?"

"Lucas."

"Yeah, Lucas. Didn't you tell me after you broke up with him that you did it because you were in love with Greg?"

"Yes."

"And you fell out of love in nine months?"

"No. I still love him."

"Does he still love you?"

"Yes – "

"So, let me get this straight. You love him, he loves you, and you're not getting any younger. So, why isn't he over here right now, doing it with you?"

"God, mom. I don't want to discuss my sex life with you."

"Or lack thereof. Fine, why isn't he over here watching TV?"

"It just wasn't working out, Mom."

"Please. I talked to your sister. It was working just fine until you decided to end it."

"If you talked to Lucinda, then you know it wasn't working!"

"Come on, Lisa! This is me you're talking to, not some counselor you can b.s. If the relationship didn't work it was because of you, and you know it!"

"Because of _me_? Don't you mean because of House?"

"Lisa, I think it's time you had a little reality check. You're the one that screwed this up."

"What? He took drugs!"

"He's an addict, Lisa. There are bound to be relapses. Send him back to re-hab. Problem solved."

"That's not a simple thing, Mom and you know it. Besides, it wasn't just that he took the drugs. It's that he took them so he could stand being with me."

"I can relate. Although I prefer wine.

"Mom – "

"In any case, wasn't this when you thought you were dying?"

"Yes."

"Lisa, you've been a doctor for how long? Twenty years? And you've never seen a bad reaction on the part of a family member to the news that a loved one may be dying?"

"Well, yes, I have, but he's a doctor. "

"Who knew even better than most what your tests most likely showed."

"Still – "

"Nothing. Besides, doctors are not objective when it comes to family members. That's why I wanted him off my case."

"He cured you."

"So? It was still a bad idea, he just pulled it out of his ass, lucky for you."

"And you."

"So, since I've demonstrated your reason for leaving him is bogus, it's time for you to get back together."

"Mom, that wasn't the only thing."

"Was it that other crap Lucinda told me?"

"What other crap?"

"That he used your toothbrush and made a mess in the bathroom? God, that's the lamest - "

"You have to admit it's unsanitary."

"Oh, for God's sake, Lisa! You probably exchanged enough bodily fluids with the man on a daily basis to drown a half-dozen toothbrushes. Get over it!"

"Well, he never took out the garbage."

"No man ever takes out the garbage."

"Dad used to!"

"That's what you remember."

"What?"

"He didn't take it out once for the first twelve years we were married."

"He didn't? Well, why did he start?"

"You were old enough to do it and I threatened to make you. He couldn't have one of his little princesses get her hands dirty, now could he?"

Cuddy couldn't help but smile.

"Now that that gigantic ego of yours has had that much not-needed boost, let's get back to the topic at hand. You were upset that he didn't show up at your awards ceremony."

"Yes."

"Oh, for God's sake! How old are you? How long are you going to need your ego fluffed? Why don't you come to terms with your age and stop pretending you're still a prom queen?"

"I'm a strong, successful woman. I'm not a prom queen."

"Then stop acting like one. What else?"

"He lied to me."

"About something at work, if what Lucinda told me is correct."

"So?"

"So, if my memory isn't completely shot, it seems to me he's lied to you at work about five thousand times since you hired him, hasn't he?"

"At least."

"So, why was this particular lie a problem?"

"Well, it was after we were in a relationship."

"Lisa, you plan everything. Do you mean to tell me it didn't dawn on you that you needed to keep your work and private lives separate?"

"Well, I did say that to him at one point, I think."

"C'mon, you don't think, you know."

"What s the point of all this, anyway?"

"I'm trying to demonstrate to you that you were too hard on this guy. Like you've been on every other guy you ever dated. That's why you'll wind up alone."

"There may be someone out there."

"Nope. This was it. If you don't fix this you're out of luck."

"Why do I have to fix it? Why couldn't he just, just . . . "

"Be better? Be more of what you wanted?"

Cuddy didn't want to admit that what her mother was saying could be true. "I told him I didn't want him to change!"

"Except that you did. That's all you wanted was for him to 'improve' and meet your standards. God, you're so much like your father it's sickening."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember when I was in the hospital and I told you and your sister about the affair I was having?"

"The one with the married man? Yes."

"Well, I lied."

"Thank God. I knew you wouldn't do that."

"Not about the affair. About how long we've been in the relationship. It's been five years."

Cuddy paused, doing the math. "But, Dad's only been gone for three years. Oh my God, you cheated on him!"

"Yes, I did."

There was another pause as Cuddy processed what she had just been told. "Listen, Mom, I'm trying not to be judgmental here. I know it must have been tough watching Dad die. I'm guessing you needed some comfort."

"True. But your father was only sick the last year of his life."

"So, you're telling me you started the affair before he got sick! How could you?"

"Lisa, I'm sure this is tough to hear, but our marriage had been over for a while. In fact, we were in the process of getting a legal separation when he found out he was dying. I only went back to take care of him."

"But, I thought you were happy together. I thought you loved each other!"

"We started out that way, but as the years passed, we – "

"Started to drift apart?"

"God, stop spouting clichés. No, I just, I got tired."

"Of what?"

"Of never being able to please him. The house wasn't clean enough. So, I worked harder at keeping it clean. Then it was too clean - it was like living in a museum. I wasn't taking care of you girls well enough. So, I focused all of my attention on you. Then I was too close, and I was making you too dependent. It was too much of a burden for him to support the family by himself, so I should go back to work. I got a job and really tried to do well and succeed, so I could bring home some decent money. Then, I was too focused on my work and I was neglecting my husband and children. I could go on and on from the smallest detail to the most important, but you get the idea. Nothing I ever did pleased him. He was a perfectionist and a control freak, and no matter what I did, it was never good enough. Sound familiar?"

"I'm not like that."

"Oh, yes you are. And, it makes you great at your job. Trouble is, it makes having a relationship with you damn near impossible. What you put that poor man through the last few months is proof of that."

"House is no 'poor man.' He's difficult and stubborn and – "

"From what you told Lucinda, he did try."

"He kept saying he'd try to do better. And he did try. It just wasn't . . . "

"Good enough?"

"Oh my God."

"Well, I can see there's at least some activity in that brain of yours. I think my work here is done."

"Wait, Mom. What do you think I should do?"

"Well, this is a first, you asking me for advice."

"Don't gloat, just tell me."

"My initial intent was to get you to apologize to him and get him to take you back, but I don't know now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you can't make some changes, like you were always demanding of him, I don't think you have a future with him. Or anyone else for that matter."

"So, what should I do?"

"You can at least apologize to him. And then seriously, seriously think about how much he means to you, and whether you have it in you to change. If you do, and he's willing to take you back, it might work. Otherwise, just make sure the man gets into rehab and doesn't destroy himself. You owe him that much."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Lisa Cuddy, youngest Dean of Medicine in the country, slayer of giant insurance companies? You can do whatever you want to. No excuses."

"Okay, Mom."

"I'm going to go now."

Cuddy walked her mother to the door.

"How's the new hip?"

"Quit stalling and go apologize. I love you, Lisa."

"I love you too, Mom."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Since this is a short fic, I hope people don't mind if I don't respond to individual reviews. For those of you who enjoyed how I wrote Arlene, thank you. And, quite honestly, that was the easier part of the fic. All I had to do is hear Candace Bergen as Arlene (or, as Murphy Brown, for those of us old enough to remember that show), and throw in some of Cuddy's controlling behavior and that part almost wrote itself. Here's the final chapter. It was much tougher, needless to say.

* * *

After Cuddy watched her mother's car leave the driveway, she went into the kitchen to get herself some tea. She sat down with the mug in her living room and thought about what her mother had said.

She hated to admit it, but Arlene was right. Cuddy had spent most of the relationship trying to get House to fit into her image of what he should be, not who he was.

Cuddy had to wonder why she was doing that. Lucas had been willing to do that and more for her, and yet, she had dumped him. He was just too easy. House was the challenge she needed. So, why was she trying to change that? To change him?

Cuddy realized she'd spent a good chunk of her life chasing some ideal that ultimately had no meaning. Who said you had to have the perfect mate to be happy? And what was the perfect mate? For Cuddy, it wasn't some fifties sitcom ideal.

It was someone who would be a challenge. It was someone who wouldn't let her get away with anything. It was someone who she would be strongly attracted to and would feel the same way about her. It was someone who didn't fit into any mold. It was someone who had as many problems as she did. It was House. A House not using drugs, and not because of the way it made _her_ feel, but because of what it did to _him_.

And, her mother was right. Cuddy knew House had been using the Vicodin to get himself to be able to deal with her illness, and she hadn't had any contact with him since. She didn't know if he were still taking it, but it was certainly a strong possibility. She'd have to deal with that before anything else.

But, after that, what else was there? What else could there be? Her mom was also right – Cuddy cringed internally – that Cuddy needed to make some decisions. Did she really want House? And if the answer to that was yes, could she accept him the way he was?

At least she should check in on him, she thought. That would be a start. And yes, she hated to admit it because she hated to do it, but she'd have to apologize. There was no way around it, if she ever wanted any kind of relationship with him.

She thought about calling him, but he'd probably just ignore her, so she decided to go to his apartment. She had no idea what she would find. Would he be drunk or high at one in the afternoon? Would he have a hooker or some girl he picked up in a bar there with him?

Regardless of what she found, she'd have to deal with it. She couldn't let her disgust or anger get the better of her. Whatever he was doing, he probably needed her help.

She grabbed her purse and headed out the front door. It took only fifteen minutes to get to House's apartment. She found a parking space about a block away, and walked past his car as she reached the entrance to the apartment building. That meant he probably was home, since it was still a little too cold for him to be riding his motorcycle. At least she hoped so.

She went into the front entrance and found his apartment. She stood there for a moment, remembering that night, the night of the crane collapse, the night that she'd broken off her engagement to Lucas, the night she'd told House she loved him, even though she wished she didn't. She cringed when she remembered what she'd said. And he'd accepted her anyway. Boy, did she did have a lot to answer for.

She listened at the door for a second. There was no loud music, and there were voices, but it was most likely the TV. She didn't hear any giggling or moaning, at least. She really hoped she'd be spared finding House with another woman.

Cuddy knocked and waited. She heard some movement inside. It was the gait she'd come to know in the past ten years. The door swung open.

House looked pretty much like she'd expected – disheveled, but not totally wasted. Of course, having been an addict for so long, he could take a large of amount of something and not look impaired. He stopped.

"Cuddy?" he questioned.

"May I come in?" Cuddy made sure to use the correct word so that he would know she was asking his permission.

He stepped back and let her enter.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm healing well from the surgery."

"Are you here to get your stuff? I don't think you left much behind, but if you want to go look . . . " his voice trailed off.

"That's not why I'm here, House."

"Come to rescue me again? Well, it's too late, I'm already taking the Vicodin."

"I guessed. I would like you to consider stopping again, and if you want to go to rehab to do it, I'll be happy to help."

"Gee, thanks. Do you do that for all the men you toss aside, or just the really pathetic ones like me?" His sarcasm cut through her like a knife.

"I deserved that."

"Yep."

They stood there in the hallway for a moment.

"What do you really want, Cuddy?"

"First, I want to say I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What for? Wasting your time with such a useless – "

"I'm sorry for trying to fix you, to change you. I shouldn't have done that."

"When we started, you told me you didn't want me to change, and then everything I did was wrong somehow . . . "

Cuddy was astonished at House's candor. It was either a really bad thing – he didn't care enough any more to give a shit what she thought, or it was a good thing – he still had some small store of trust or affection for her that let him let her inside. Not that she deserved it.

"I know and that was wrong. Really, really wrong. And stupid. And destructive."

There was another awkward pause.

"Well, thanks for stopping by."

Cuddy wasn't sure what to say next. She'd come to apologize, and she'd done that. And House seemed to accept it, in his own non-acknowledging way. Or, at least he hadn't rejected it. _Make sure you get the man some re-hab_, Arlene's voice echoed in Cuddy's head.

"Listen," Cuddy started, knowing she had to tread lightly here, "I think you know that your taking Vicodin is not a long term solution for your pain. Besides, once it gets around the hospital that you're – " she hesitated, searching for a neutral, non-accusatory term, "back to what you were doing before, there's going to be testing, and licensing issues, and all of that."

"You're saying I'm going to have to de-tox again?"

"Probably. And not just for the sake of your job. It's better for your mental health and your liver, too."

"But what about . . . " House hesitated for a moment. "The pain. I mean, my leg isn't killing me for the first time in almost two years. I don't know if I can go back to . . . "

House had stopped looking Cuddy in the eye and was looking down, almost hanging his head like a little boy.

All of a sudden, it hit Cuddy. She didn't know much about his family, but she knew House's father was a marine. He'd probably taught House that giving in to pain was weakness. And then everyone around House dismissing him as an addict just reinforced that.

"Look at me," Cuddy said, hoping she sounded insistent but not demanding. "There's another thing I screwed up. When you came back from Mayfield, I should have allowed you to see a pain management specialist."

"And then let me take whatever drugs he prescribed?" House asked, doing his best to sound like a kid being let lose in a candy store.

"In the prescribed amounts, yes," Cuddy responded with mock stern-ness.

"Buzzkill."

There was another pause.

"And what about . . . " House was looking straight at her this time, "The other pain?"

"You mean our relationship?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. A flash of hurt crossed House's face before his mask came down again.

"Yeah, well, you've come to impose conditions on your difficult employee, boss. I'll let you know when I decide what I'm going to do."

He waved his hand, indicating she should leave.

Cuddy thought for a moment. She had accomplished what her mother said was the minimum she should try to do, or, at least, she had started it. Should she leave now and try to deal with the rest later?

It only took her a moment to realize she was scared. The next part of this couldn't be boss-employee, couldn't be at arms length, had to involve her being genuinely humble, and had to involve her showing her heart and risking getting rejected. But, if she didn't do it, she was pretty sure there would be no chance for them to get back together again. She didn't want that.

"When I said our relationship caused us pain, I don't think you can deny that. But it also made us happy, I think. It certainly made us less lonely. And . . . "

"You're really not making your case here, Cuddy."

"I know. But, I need to be realistic here. I don't want to make it sound like rose petals and rainbows when it was anything but, when it couldn't be that because neither of us want that."

"What _do_ you want, Cuddy?"

"I still want a relationship with you, House."

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

"Even when you wish you didn't, but you can't help it?"

Cuddy had no idea if House remembered what she said that night. At the time he'd seemed to accept it, but it had obviously stung. God, she was such an idiot sometimes. "That was a stupid, cruel thing to say, and I'm so sorry I said it."

"Really?"

"Yes. If this has a chance to work, I've got to stop doing that."

"It's not like I don't say things that hurt you."

"Yeah. And it would probably help if you did a little less of that, too. Not that I'm telling you what to do."

There was the barest hint of a smile on House's face.

"Listen. I've decided I'm going to start seeing someone."

"A threesome? I have a suggestion, Cuddy. Her name is Roxy –"

"I meant a therapist, House."

"Really?"

"Yes. I screwed up the only relationship I ever wanted by being so manipulative and controlling I drove the only man I ever really loved to drugs, for God's sake. If that isn't the definition of having serious problems, I don't know what is."

"You didn't make me take the Vicodin, Cuddy. And I'm not exactly the poster child for mental health, myself."

"If you think continuing therapy would help you, House, then, by all means, go for it."

"It would probably be part of my re-hab, anyway."

"True."

"So, where does that leave . . . " House made a gesture with his hand, indicating the two of them.

"I said I wanted a relationship with you, House. Do you still want a relationship with me?"

"Yes."

Cuddy was relieved and pleased with his lack of hesitation.

"So, I start re-hab and therapy. How do I know you won't take up with a former friend of mine?"

Cuddy winced. She had made such a horrible mess of things when he went to Mayfield, and even worse after he returned.

"Maybe because I've learned a few things about myself in the last year, like you're the only one I want. If I can't have you, there isn't anyone else."

"Or, I could do it on an outpatient basis, and keep an eye on you."

Cuddy fought back the urge to protest. "Whatever works for you, House."

"And, you'll be, um, going to counseling, too?"

"Yes."

"How do we know this will work out?"

"We don't."

"I'm not sure I can change."

"Are you kidding? You've made significant changes in the last two years."

"But they weren't enough."

"That part was my fault, my problem, not yours. And I want to acknowledge that as crazy as my demands and manipulation were, you still tried."

"Thanks. I love you and I didn't want to lose you. And, ironically enough, by doing what you wanted, that's precisely what I did."

"Actually, I don't think you lost me. I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Yes, but, how do I know you won't leave again? How do I know that I won't fail again?"

"Because I'm going to stop testing you."

"And how do I know you can do that?"

"You don't. But please let me try to do better."

House smiled slightly, hearing his own words being repeated back to him. It was going to take a lot of work from both of them, and they might fail, but they still loved each other, and it was still worth a try. The pain that had been constricting his chest for the last two weeks eased just a little bit.

Even with the Vicodin, House's leg was letting him know they had been standing for a long time.

"Are you going to go now, or do you want to stay for a while?"

"What do you want?"

"I'm a guy, Cuddy. It's pretty obvious what I want."

Cuddy smiled. "Oh, and another thing. In the relationship, um, if things aren't what I want, no more withholding sex. That was a dumb thing for me to do."

"I does have a sort of lose-lose aspect to it, now that you mention it."

"And that's the only reason you didn't like it."

"Again, I'm a guy, so . . . "

"Fine. I think I'd like to stay, if that's okay with you."

"Do I have any chance of, you know?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure we're at a place where we should do that right now. Then again, I just said I don't want to be controlling about this. And there is something to be said for make-up sex. . . . "

Cuddy walked past House into the living room. They were both as uneasy as they had been when they'd started the previous May. But, at least they'd learned a few things. And, maybe, with a lot of effort and help, they could possibly make something work.

* * *

A/N: Okay, there it is. The ending is weak, I know. To my Huddy readership, if you still exist: I know this is hardly a traditional happy ending, but I was trying to work with what the show gave me, and, let's face it, it wasn't much. I hope this is at least a plausible conclusion that respects the characters (certainly better than the actual show has, not that that would be difficult) and spares us whatever horror is coming.

To my House/OC readership: First, I hope your filters are set-up such that you didn't find this. If not, I know you're probably gagging right now. Please forgive me. I'm trying to take what is execrable canon and do something with it. At least it puts the blame for the relationship failure where it surely belongs, which is with Cuddy, in my humble opinion, and it deals a little bit with House's addiction and his genuine leg pain. The other thing this is supposed to address is the way the show left it that not only didn't House get Cuddy, but the way she dumped him meant he would be so wrecked he couldn't be with anyone else, either. The OC babe in me just screams, "No!" to that. So, this is an attempt to get him some healing and coming to terms with things, so that if it doesn't work with Cuddy, at least he won't be totally destroyed for anyone else.

And now that I have this demon exorcised from my system, time to go back to Almost Home. I'll post there as soon as I can. (Although Visitkarte doesn't sound like she/he is on the edge of his/her seat. Give compliments much, dear? ;)


End file.
